Page 13 of Georgia Guy
9
ALEXANDRA
Ican’t believe I kissed Joe. I’m normally the one being chased in romantic relationships, not the aggressor. But I just couldn’t stand to listen to that awful woman insult the gorgeous, irresistible man for one more moment––especially since he looked so dejected, as if her beratement was somehow deserved.
And damn… Our chemistry sizzles. I’ve never felt a simple kiss in such a massive way. Every single cell in my body came alive and tingled with energy. I didn’t want to pull back from his soft lips, but since we were standing in his rude ex’s living room, we had to stop.
The limo ride back to the airport was awkward and silent. Now, we’re sitting on my private jet with our shoes off. I have my feet curled up under me in the seat, and I’m trying to figure out how to address the giant, purple elephant in the room.
Taking a deep breath, I say, “Look––”
At the exact same moment, Joe says, “I apprec––”
We both pause and offer to let the other continue. Rather than allowing this uncomfortable back-and-forth dance to continue, I say in a firm tone, “You go first.”
“Okay. I appreciate what you did back there,” Joe tells me.
Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “What do you mean?”
“I mean how you gave me that fake kiss to convince Harlow that I’m not the boring, average man that she knows me to be. That was really sweet of you to make me look good in front of her,” he says.
Although I’m sure his words are meant to be kind, they leave my mind swirling. My breath comes in quick, shallow pants as I realize that the two of us viewed that kiss very differently. Eventually, I find my voice, but I sound winded when I ask, “You think I kissed you to prove something to your ex-girlfriend?”
“Of course. Why else would someone like you kiss someone like me?” he asks, sounding utterly sincere.
In this moment, I absolutely despise Harlow, and anyone else like her, whose condescension has made Joe feel this way. He deserves to be appreciated for the unique, wonderful man he is, but people from his past have apparently spoken down to him so much that he started to believe they were speaking the truth.
After taking a deep breath, in an attempt to steady my voice, I answer in as clear of a tone as I can manage, “I don’t do anything to impress anyone else. I kissed you because I wanted to, Joe.”
His gaze searches mine, assessing. “You wanted to kiss me? Why?”
“Because I like you, Joe––a lot. You’re hardworking and smart. You don’t take any shit from anyone. You treat women with respect. You don’t talk down to anyone. You’re kind and thoughtful. You’re talented. When you look at me, it feels like you’re peering straight into my soul. And kissing you left me breathless and craving more.”
His lips part during my bold monologue. He gives me one of those deep, assessing looks that leaves me feeling as if I’ve been laid bare before him.
Deciding I may as well go all the way in, I add, “You deserve to be with someone who appreciates you and cherishes your relationship. Harlow was crazy to cheat on you because she was lucky to have you. If you were mine, I wouldn’t even look at anyone else. I would be completely yours.”
My words do the trick. In one swift, smooth movement, Joe releases his lap belt and lunges in my direction. Our lips meet, and we devour each other hungrily––as if we’ve both been starving for the other’s touch.
When we finally force ourselves to break apart, we are both breathless. I am desperate for more, and by the delectable way his jeans are bulging at the crotch, it’s clear that he is, too.
I use the intercom to let Flo know that we’ll be in the bedroom suite and do not wish to be disturbed, then Joe and I race toward the back of the plane.
As soon as I close the bedroom’s door behind us, Joe whirls around to face me. He doesn’t even bother with one of his appreciative, low whistles to indicate how plush the bedroom is because his attention is completely consumed by me.
He uses both hands to brush lightly up my arms, creating a scintillating tingle in his wake. My skin burns with pleasure from his touch, and I don’t ever want this heated sensation to end.
When he tilts down to press his lips to mine, my eyelids fall shut and I let out a desperate moan. My own body is warring with itself as the urge to feel him inside me now battles with my desire to make our first time together last as long as possible.
After the mind-numbing kiss ends, his palm lifts to cup my cheek as he gazes down at me with an addictive, adoring look.
“I want you so much,” I whisper, fully meaning it.
“I’ve never wanted anyone with this much intensity,” he responds in a husky tone. Raking his fingers through my hair, he adds, “My entire body is drawn to you on a molecular level.”
“Yes,” I murmur, since his words perfectly mirror how I feel, even though that’s not how I would have worded it.
This time, when he tips down to kiss me, he pulls me into him and I dig my fingers into his hair. We kiss as if we both need the connection as much as we require air. We’re desperate and clinging to each other as if our very survival depends on the meeting of our lips and tongues.
